


it's the yeast i can do

by sunnilee



Series: best laid plans: contingencies [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, F/M, and bad cook sylvain collided with him, and now it's all bread puns, glasses sylvain lives on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25081972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnilee/pseuds/sunnilee
Summary: Ingrid works hard every single day, Sylvain just wanted to bake something nice for her.He just wasn't bready for the end result.
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: best laid plans: contingencies [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776142
Comments: 81
Kudos: 68





	1. not bready for this

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nightsdawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightsdawn/gifts).



Ingrid comes home to the aroma of toasted almonds and fresh bread. Quickly shucking off her outer jacket and kicking off her shoes by the door, she shuffles into her apartment with her nose leading the way. “Sylvain? I’m back! Were you baking?”

His head pops out from their bedroom, hair looking more tousled than usual, eyes squinted as he looks in her general direction. “I just took the bread out of the oven, but it still needs to be turned out of the pan to cool.” He steps fully out of the room and sighs, leaning against the doorframe. “Have you seen my glasses by any chance? I could’ve sworn I was wearing them earlier…”

Shaking her head, Ingrid makes her way over to her husband, snickering as his face relaxes because he can finally see her clearly. She steps into the warmth of his arms and settles into his chest, smiling as he leans down to kiss her. “Welcome home, Ing.”

She hums into his lips, “You were definitely wearing them when I left this morning.”

Sylvain groans and drops his head to Ingrid’s shoulder. “I hate having glasses…”

She pats his back placatingly. “I thought you said they made you look hotter?”

He pulls back with a smug grin on his face. “No, I’m pretty sure that was you. _You_ picked out my frames, Ing.”

“ _I’m_ pretty sure there’s a loaf of bread in the kitchen with my name on it.” Ingrid untangles herself from him and dashes off to the kitchen as Sylvain calls out behind her, “what about my glasses!”

She’s already by the cooling rack and half-way to turning the pan over when she calls back, “I’ll help you look after I eat, I’m starving—oh.”

Ingrid stares down at the bread she just flipped over. It’s beautifully golden, nicely aerated…

And Sylvain’s glasses are lodged into the bottom, staring back at her.

“Ing? Something wrong with the bread?”

She’s still staring down at her husband’s creation with a strange mix of awe and exasperation, shocked and yet completely unsurprised he somehow managed this. She clears her throat. “I think… you better see for yourself.”

Sylvain huffs as he joins her, arms wrapping around her waist. “Low blow. You _know_ I can’t see anything without my glasses—oh.”

Ingrid snorts. “Yeah, _oh_.”

“I can say, with one hundred percent clarity, I don’t know how this happened.”

She sighs. “Did your glasses fog up again?”

“…Maybe?”

“So, you took them off and placed them in the baking pan instead of the countertop?”

“Listen, I _did_ say I can’t see anything—”

“You’re a hazard in the kitchen.”

“But that’s why I _knead_ you, Ingrid.” She groans loudly, but smiles anyway as he presses a sloppy kiss to her cheek. He beams at her. “You work so hard every day, baking you something nice is the _yeast_ I can do—”

She pushes his face away with the palm of her hand and breaks off a piece of bread with the other, shoving it into her mouth. _At least it tastes good._ Sylvain’s whining against her hand as she catches sight of his glasses again, and she laughs. “I’m glad I proposed first, Sylvain. If this is any indication, hiding the ring in food would _not_ have gone well for you.”


	2. doughn't make me repeat myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite the glasses in the baking tray, Ingrid's been a gluten for Sylvain's almond bread ever since.
> 
> Dorothea finds out why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Nightsdawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightsdawn), this one's for you
> 
> because i can't believe i left such low-hanging fruitful puns unattended to
> 
> you tha bomb <3
> 
> and [eth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereally/pseuds/Ethereally)... ya comment got me good too.

Ingrid walks into the bakery Dorothea’s waiting in and she sighs happily with the smell of freshly baked bread that surrounds her. She spots Dorothea sitting in one of the booths with a full tray already on the table.

She bounces over and slides into the booth, smiling widely as Dorothea pushes the tray toward her. “Long time no see, Ingie. Take your pick, I grabbed one of everything.”

Ingrid scans the tray quickly and frowns before she realizes it. Dorothea quirks a brow. “Ingrid? Something wrong?”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s nothing. Just… didn’t this bakery have almond bread before?”

“They do, but they just ran out of almonds when I got here.”

Ingrid sighs and nods forlornly, looking over the bread again. Something flickers in Dorothea’s eyes, but it’s gone before Ingrid can catch it. “Sorry Thea… I don’t know what it is, but I’ve just been craving almonds recently.”

“ _Really?_ You never liked almonds that much before.”

Ingrid sighs again. “I _know._ I’m usually going for the savory breads. I don’t know what changed…”

Dorothea places her elbows on the table and leans forward, face contemplative. “When did this craving start, do you think?”

She pauses and recounts the pattern of her meals. “Hmm… maybe a month ago? Month and a half?”

The corner of Dorothea’s mouth twitches, but her face shifts back into neutrality. “What happened a month ago?” _She knows damn well who was home a month ago._

Ingrid remembers the glasses in the baking tray and snorts. “Sylvain was back from Sreng and he baked me some almond bread. Also baked his glasses into it too.”

Dorothea’s eyebrows shoot into her hairline and she smiles slyly. “Is that all he baked?”

Ingrid blinks. “What do you mean? He just left for another diplomatic trip—”

Dorothea sighs and takes one of Ingrid’s hands in hers. “Oh, _Ingie._ I _mean_ , did he bake anything else last month?”

Her eyes narrow. “I… I don’t follow, Thea—”

“Any other buns in the oven?”

Ingrid stares at her friend in silence for a few more moments before flushing _horribly_. She whips her hand out of Dorothea’s and covers her face, muffling her voice. “ _Thea!”_

Dorothea laughs. “You’re _married_ , Ingrid.”

Cheeks still heated with mortification, Ingrid quietly counts the number of days that have passed since her last cycle and she gulps. Peeking from behind her fingers, Ingrid whispers, “come to the pharmacy with me?”

Dorothea straightens up and beams. “What’s that now?”

“ _Don’t_ make me repeat myself—"

“Can I plan the baby shower too—?”

Ingrid fixes her with a glare. “Not a peep to Sylvain. Not until we find out for sure.”

Dorothea places her hand on her chest. “Croissant my heart and hope to die—”

Ingrid swipes the rest of bread into her purse and pulls her friend out the door.


	3. one bun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and it just hits me out of nowhere

Ingrid has to time it perfectly.

She already roped Felix into picking Sylvain up from the airport.

She hasn’t told Dimitri because… well because he’s too soft-hearted and he would cave before Sylvain even asks.

She’s already bought Dorothea’s silence with a week-long spa and shopping trip.

A shopping trip for clothes.

Clothes for her.

_And the baby._

The thought of the baby, the thought of _her_ baby, _with Sylvain_ … it still sends a flush to her cheeks and sends her heart out of rhythm.

She spent weeks trying to figure out how to tell him. He’d just left on a trip to Sreng when she found out. Or, at least, when Dorothea helped her find out.

But he wasn’t due back for at least another two months… and she wanted him to be there. Be there when she goes to all of her OB visits.

Because this is something new. It’s new and it’s _theirs_ , and she wants him to be there.

She debated a text message. Really. It’d be fast, straight to the point. Gets the job done.

Dorothea almost choked her for that, right there, in the bathroom after she waited in the bathroom with her to watch those two little lines appear.

Ingrid sighed heavily. “Well, what do _you_ propose I do then?”

Dorothea plucked her phone from her hands and started typing. Within seconds, they hear a _ding._

_Ingrid: When are you coming back? I have a surprise for you._

_Sylvain: You can’t just say that, Ing! I just left! I can make it back in three weeks._

She watched her friend get that familiar glint in her eye and her stomach rolled over. She knew it wasn’t the baby’s fault this time. “Well, Ingie. That gives you three weeks to learn how to bake.”

Keys slot into their apartment door and her nerves spike. She can hear Felix and Sylvain’s low chatter outside, followed by a quick thump and a shove. Then, Sylvain’s laughter.

The door swings open and he’s home.

It takes everything in her to keep her hand from flying to her belly.

Sylvain smiles wide and cocks his head to the side. “What, no running greeting? I thought you said you had a surprise for me!”

She snorts and settles for crossing her arms instead. “I do. It’s in the oven.”

He sneaks a sloppy kiss to her cheek and she smiles, turning her head just so she can catch the corner of his lips. Ingrid lets his hands turn her, so he can properly wrap his arms around her waist and kiss her deeper.

It’s been just under a month since he last touched her, but she still gets shivers all the same.

Sylvain bumps her nose with his and smirks. “Since when did you bake?”

She bumps it right back. “ _You_ did this.”

His eyebrows rise, smile widening. “ _Me?_ I wasn’t even here.”

She pushes against his chest and jerks her head toward the kitchen. “Well, why don’t you get your surprise then?”

With one last kiss on her cheek, he bounds away from her, his entire frame shaking with excitement. She follows him into the kitchen, leaning against the dinner table as she watches him pull on oven mitts and wrench the oven door open. He slides the bread pan out slowly and freezes.

He’s staring at the pan. He blinks. He blinks a few more times before slamming the oven door shut.

Sylvain whips around, eyes wide. “You made a bun.”

She quirks an eyebrow at him. He isn’t phased. “You made a bun. _One bun._ ” She still doesn’t move or respond, and he takes a step toward her. “Ingrid. You made one bun.”

He’s right in front of her and her arms drop. “You’ve said that.”

Sylvain’s eyes are wildly searching hers and he audibly gulps. “There’s a bun in the oven, Ingrid.”

She reaches out and laces her fingers with his, bringing one of his hands to her belly. “Yeah, there is.”

Ingrid hears some sort of strangled gasp and suddenly, she’s airborne. Suddenly, she’s yelping and grappling for his shoulders like they were still in college as he spins her around. _One for each month I’ve spent away from you._

He doesn’t let her go. He doesn’t let her go, but he does stop spinning. Her fingers brush his cheeks, swiping at his eyes, heart feeling full. “Are you crying?”

Sylvain sniffles and squeezes her closer. “Why aren’t _you?”_

She laughs at his petulant voice and presses a kiss to his pouting lips. “I already did.”

He lets her feet touch the floor and he groans, “I wanted to be there for that.”

Ingrid snorts at him and rests her head against his chest. Against his heartbeat. His hand is warm on her belly. “Well, you’re here now. And you’re here for this.”

She tips her head up and his eyes are that molten gold and she feels electricity shoot down her spine as Sylvain dips his head low, brushing his lips against hers. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Then, she smells something burning.

“Sylvain, did you leave the bun in the oven?”

“Well, isn’t it supposed to stay for like, another eight months? Besides, I’m pretty sure that’s out of my control—”

“ _That’s not what I meant—_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nightsdawn keeps giving me comments that keep making me add chapters to this so


	4. get a loaf of this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Sylvain is worried about being a good father.
> 
> Ingrid has full confidence in him.
> 
> He's a natural.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday Nightsdawn!!
> 
> You brought so many of us writers into the discord and it's been a wild ride ever since.
> 
> I hope you have the loveliest day with your friends and family, and I wish you the best <3

Ingrid feels like a whale.

Sure, her skin is glowing. It’s clear. Perfect. Great and all.

But she feels bloated and she’d lost sight of her toes over the edge of her swollen belly months ago. And _her back is killing her_ , and her feet are just _so_ puffy.

Thankfully, the nausea and vomiting stopped very early on, but her cravings continued throughout the pregnancy. She was about two months away from delivering, but Sylvain still fussed around her non-stop.

It was nice at first, endearing even. He bought parenting books on day one, flipping through them right before they went to sleep. He’d fly out of bed to go on midnight snack-runs for her on moment’s notice. The shoulder massages were a _godsend._ And being excused from the housework? _Heavenly._

But even after the weeks went by, then the months, he _didn’t stop._ He didn’t let her do _anything._

Ingrid understood, _really._ Sylvain was scared, and she was too. He kept her sitting or lying down, more days than not, until she started complaining about her backpain and aching feet. He’d pouted. He _actually pouted_ when she asked to help him with the groceries and she just about smacked him when he whined, “but Ingrid, we have to let our little bun rest! It’s essential to raising our kid!” She’d given him a blank stare and he plowed forward, “if we don’t let our little bread rest, she won’t rise, and then we’d be the world’s _worst_ parents—”

Ingrid grabbed the car keys off the counter and threw his jacket in his face.

She’s resting on the couch now because she’s evolved into a full waddle with how much her feet hurt, and Sylvain had promptly left the apartment in search of some more comfortable shoes. It’s been about an hour and Ingrid, as sappy as it sounds, already misses him.

Ever since she told him about the pregnancy, he’d suspended all of his international trips until the expected delivery and he went to every prenatal visit with her, eyes wide, hand clasped tightly in hers. _Yes,_ Sylvain is fussy, but he got to be there for all the little things.

The ultrasound pictures.

The gender reveal.

The first time their daughter kicked against their hands.

Her chest would warm at the sight of his head resting on her belly, whispering all sorts of grand plans for their little princess when she finally arrived. Her heart tugging when he gets another little kick in response to his voice, his excited eyes shooting to hers, face beaming.

He’s scared and she’s scared, but she knows Sylvain is going to love their little girl so much.

She knows he’s going to be a great father.

Ingrid hears keys jingle in the lock. and she lets her head fall back onto the couch, closing her eyes with a sigh. “Welcome home. Did you find anything?”

The door shuts quietly, and Sylvain’s voice sounds far too giddy for her liking. “Of course I did! What kind of husband would I be if I came back empty-handed?”

 _She recognizes that tone of voice_. Ingrid opens her eyes wearily and they find that barely-contained smile on his face, as well as… two short baguettes? With holes in them? Her brow furrows. “Sylvain, what are those—”

“I got you bread slippers!” Ingrid stares at him, already knowing his next words before he opens his mouth again. “Or should I say, _loafers_?”

The baby kicks in her belly and Ingrid knows Sylvain is going to be a great father.

He’s already full of dad jokes and their daughter already enjoys them.

**Author's Note:**

> I found a picture of glasses baked into the bottom of an otherwise wonderful looking loaf of bread
> 
> so this was born
> 
> this is also just 500 some words of fluff because the sylvgrid discord asked for 6-8/10 pain in the reincarnation au SO.
> 
> heres the promised double post fluff chaser


End file.
